You Never Asked Me
by Neko-chan -Silvered Tongue
Summary: {Akito-centric} Not every hatred is unfounded---every evil does, in fact, have a root. How can a person be truly blamed for being the person he was created to be? [For Dr. Megalomania]


You Never Asked Me

By: Neko-chan

  
  


A/N: Well... I don't know how a lot of people felt about Akito (my sister despises him... -_-;; ...), but I'm happy to know that at least someone other than myself feels for him. Dr. Megalomania's ficu "Just A Little Something" gave me the inspiration (and prompted me to get off my lazy butt) to write this. So, without further ado, this Akito POV is dedicated to you, Dr. Megalomania. Hope you like it! ^_^

Disclaimer: No, I don't own it. Now go away. _

  
  


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They never asked me, you know.

Not a single word.

They never asked how I felt--what I thought or wanted or hoped for. They never even glanced my way. It was foretold that I would carry the full Souma curse. It was foretold that I would die... that I would die for _them_. It was foretold that I would always be weak; would always be frail and prone to illness; would die soon enough. But no one ever asked how I felt.

No one cared.

They were all relieved that they weren't the ones to carry the full brunt of our... 'gift.'

And I hated them for it. No one asked, no one cared. All would tiptoe around me, try not to upset me. After all, if I died too soon, then someone else would be born to carry on my curse. They couldn't have _that_, now could they? They were all so happy--smiling and gentle and kind. "You mustn't strain your heart, Akito-sama." "You mustn't tax yourself, Akito-sama." "You mustn't stay out too long, Akito-sama. You might get ill." So _caring_, so _concerned_--as if they truly did care for me, as if they truly did love me.

Lies--all lies.

I was their tool.

I was their way of escaping something so horrible none had been able to live with it for long.

And no one ever asked me how I felt.

That's why I hate them all so very much.

I never wanted to be the one chosen to die. I never wanted to be their sacrificial lamb. I never wanted to be told from the moment that I finally understood speech that I was the one chosen to waste away, that I was the one chosen to carry out the full Souma curse. That I was the one that must die so that the others may live. That the only reason for my living was to die.

I don't want to die.

_I don't want to die._

But no one understands that. No one cares. They all look at me with blank expressions. They all look at me as if I didn't matter, as if I _don't_ matter--that I would pass away soon, never to taint the world with my presence for long--so why should they care? Blank stares. Beautiful stares, but empty and unblinking. There's no sympathy in their gazes. There's no emotion... because they _don't care_. 

They all know that once I die they'll all forget about me. They'll all wait in silence at my deathbed, each holding his or her breath, each impatiently waiting for me to take my last gasp of air. And each wondering, worrying, about the new bearer of the curse. Each hoping against hope that the person wouldn't be related to them--couldn't claim any ties to them, whatsoever.

Each member of the inner family is cursed with a spirit. But I am Cursed among _them_.

More than anyone else in the whole damned world, _I_ know what's it's like being all alone. I know what it's like leaning against the pane of glass in the window, watching the world slowly laze on by, doing nothing because you are unable to do anything at all. It isn't 'permitted.' Bored--so completely bored. And lonely. ...lonely because no one cares.

_They_ all wonder why I'm so cold and cruel. _They_ all wonder why I take such pleasure in their pain and horror. Well, I'll _tell_ you why. I do the things I do because I despise them--despise them all. Why should I show kindness and caring to people who only look at me because they must? Who look at me because they have no other choice? Who look at me with _no_ expression or emotion shining through their eyes. _They_ deserve the things that I do to them. They deserve to be terrorized and hurt and driven into insanity whilst I'm alive.

Why, you ask?

Because _they_ have driven me into insanity.

Going day after day after day, with no hope of another--knowing that one day, someday very, very soon, there won't _be_ a next day--gazing out the window. Watching. Yearning and hating and wanting to scream and cry and wail as all the others slowly learn what friendship means. Watching as they begin to care for one another--and for others. Outsiders. Watching them smile and hating them for that one small expression... because they never smiled at _me_.

_That_ is why I'm so cold. _That_ is why they think that I've been driven into insanity. _That_ is why I'm so cruel to them all. And can you possibly blame me?

That's right.

You can't.

I am entitled to do whatever I want. I am _entitled_ to harm others. I am _ENTITLED_ to make others feel the emptiness that dwells deep within me. If I am to die for them, then why can't I make them feel just a little bit of how I feel? Why can't I make them understand _why_ I am the way that I am? _They_, after all, created the person that exists... even if that existence is for a very short while.

I live in pain.

They should feel pain, as well.

It's only fair.

I hurt and ache and burn with the pain that rages within this frail body of mine. But I can't do anything to make it stop. I can't--nothing will ever make it stop... until I die. If I suffer this much, and others are happy, living their lives without problem or mishap, then why am I _entitled_ to such pain? Why do I have to endure so much? Why do I yearn so desperately for someone... anyone... to smile at me?

It isn't fair.

But, then again, life isn't fair.

It never was, nor will it ever be.

More than anything else in the whole entire world, I want someone to understand me. I want them to see--truly see--why I do the things that I do. I want someone to share this burden with me, hold me against their chest, and softly breathe, "It will be alright. Don't worry. In the end--everything will be alright."

Yet... All I ever get are eyes. Cold, empty, expressionless _eyes_. No smiles, no emotion, no embraces or gentle laughter. Eyes. Eyes, eyes, eyes--empty and glazed, lifeless. Nothing more than the empty expression a doll gives you while you hold it tightly against your body. A doll can't give emotion. A doll can't say, "I love you." A doll can't say... "I'm sorry for you." I hate them all so much. I HATE THEM ALL!

All I ever wanted was a friend. All I ever wanted was someone to hold me, to embrace me. Someone to smile cheerfully and... Someone that I could talk to.

...but you don't always get what you want.

No, you never do.

That's why I take such pleasure in denying _them_ things that make them so very happy.

You're in love? You've made friends? For the very first time in your life... you're happy? Do you honestly expect me to care? Why should I care _anything_ about you when you've never even glanced my way? Why should I care _anything_ about you when you've never even cared for me? Do you honestly think that I would smile and nod and _allow_ you to live your life without any pain, without any suffering? I am, after all, _dying_ because of _you_.

You wonder why I hate you all so much?

You wonder what could possibly drive me to harm you all in any way possible?

You wonder why I'm so bitter?

You wonder why I'm surrounded in darkness, breathing it in until I choke on it, gasping for air that could never fill my lungs?

You wonder why I'm drowning, dying both inside and out?

You wonder why I look at you with loathing in my gaze?

. . .

You still look at me with those empty and expressionless eyes, again and again and again and again asking, "Why are you the way that you are? Why are you so cruel? Why do you hate us all so very much? What have we ever done to you to make you feel the way that you do?"

Eyes.

So... empty...

All I can ever do in response to your questions is to tilt my head to one side, showing you _exactly_ how much hate there is within me, and smile a cold, cruel smile. My answer? "You disgust me. . . . I am the way that I am because I have never known what true emotion feels like. All I can ever feel is hate; hate for _all_ of you. _I_ am dying so that _you_ may live."

And you never even asked me how I felt.

  
  


~Owari~

::End::

  
  


A/N: Well, I hope you--at least somewhat--enjoyed this. Though... *eyes fic* ...using the term 'enjoy' may be overdoing it. *sweatdrops*

Akito: Crazy woman. -_-;;

...isn't that the pot calling the kettle black? D

Akito: Shut up.

*glomps him* You're just upset because you're one of my favorite characters. Thus, I get to spend extra attention on you~! *squeeze squeeze squeeze*

Akito: ...stupid fangirl authoress. x.x;;


End file.
